


Love in Purple Clover

by Katalina_Riddle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Greece, F/M, Persian Empire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 09:05:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15288186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katalina_Riddle/pseuds/Katalina_Riddle
Summary: Maha is a maidservant of King Darius in the Persian Empire. Her life is turned upside down by the invasion of the Greek Army led by the feared Alexander the Great. Now she is a prisoner. James is a soldier in that same army and is charged with capturing prisoners. One young woman catches his eye, and he can't bring himself to take her. He is also imprisoned by his own general. Escape plans are hatched, and attempts carried out; but will they be successful, or will tragedy strike?





	1. Maha

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [AgeOfPotter](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/AgeOfPotter) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
> James is a General in the Greek Army. Alexander the Great is conquering the world, one army at a time. And the next stop is Persia. This is the end of the Persian Empire. Lives are taken, as are prisoners. One of them is Luna, a beautiful maidservant. So begins a forbidden romance.
> 
> I would like to thank my amazing alpha and beta who made this piece possible! They shall rename nameless until the entrants are revealed.
> 
> Some of the characters in this piece were created by and are the property of JK Rowling and Bloomsbury. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made from it.

**May 3rd, 334 BC**

Maha stood at the well and stooped to fill an earthen pitcher with the cool, clear water. Her hair was swathed in a flowing scarf, loose tendrils dancing in the wind as she placed the water vessel on the ground to rest her weary arms. All day she had been collecting water, running to and fro between this well and the King’s Palace.  _ She sighed. _ This was the life of a maidservant. She wouldn’t complain though. She was content with her lot in life; there were many people throughout the land of Persia who were facing far worse circumstances than she was. 

Feeling as though her feet were no longer a part of her body and her arms might drop off any second, Maha walked slowly through the bustling city. All around her, people bartered and sold their goods, haggling for the best prices. Children, poor and ragged, ran joyfully in the street. Old women, gnarled and bent, sold tulips and lotus flowers by the pathways, offering simple smiles to passers by. By day, Maha worked for the King in his Winter Palace; but when she was free, this was where she came. Susa was a large city, a capital of a great empire; but its citizens were still poverty stricken. 

She bought a lotus from an aged lady sitting by the roadside, and offered her a warm smile. She stopped to give the scarf tied around her neck to a child who was shivering from the biting wind. Maha knew the struggles of living in poverty, and she wanted to do everything in her power to help them.

_ Except I can’t,  _ she thought.  _ They’ll fear me. _

_ Or hate me. _

Maha turned a corner into a little cobbled courtyard, the warmth of home beckoning to her through the darkness. In a small whitewashed house, oil lamps flickered in the windows, their small but persistent light leading her to that old familiar friend. She pushed open the door and smiled.

“Papa. I’m home.”

Her father was lying on a flatbed covered by a simple woolen blanket, his tired frame finally resting. The flames from a small but welcome fire created shadows that danced across his weary face. It was a perfect picture of peace that Maha was loath to interrupt. She took the scarf from her hair and gently placed it over her father’s shoulders.

Exhausted, she sank to the earthen floor by the warm glow of the fire and wrapped herself in a shawl. She leaned heavily upon the limestone wall and closed her eyes. She would rest for a few minutes,  _ and then I’ll move,  _ she told herself. A soft yawn passed her lips, followed by a sigh, and within seconds, Maha was fast asleep, entering the world of dreams where none could catch her.  _ She was free. _

She stayed in that exact position, nestled against the wall by the fire, until the next morning, when the cock crew signalling the early guard watch.

She rose from her deep slumber and dressed, tying her long hair back up and hiding it under a scarf. This scarf, though not unattractive, was a symbol of her servitude, but she wore it with pride and grace.  _ It’s good for one’s humility to remember where one comes from. _

And so, that morning, she gently kissed her sleeping father, and left her home smiling happily, a satisfied spring in her step. 

_ What do I have to complain about? I am a servant, but I have so much compared to others with so little. _

It was easy to be content with one’s situation when one looked around them and saw how many of the citizens of Susa lived. The King was so wealthy; but he didn’t care about the impoverished citizens. In fact, he taxed them harder and harder every year. Soon, many would have nothing left to give. Maha had nothing to give but her service, so she gave it willingly. Now, she was poor, but not desperately so. It was not so long ago that she had been rescued from that life of poverty.

OoO

_ “Stop that girl!” _

_ She ran. _

_ Just seven years old, the child ran for her life. Past the colourful marketplace, past the beggar women in the streets, past the overflowing tavern. Scared and alone, she ran, never daring to look over her shoulder to see how close behind they were. _

_ Every now and then she would stop for a breath and rest her little legs, but the glint of silver armour reflecting the sun would startle her and she would run again.  _

_ The girl clutched a loaf of barley bread to her chest and ran as fast as her legs could carry her. Her scarf slipped from her long dark hair as she ran...straight into the arms of a complete stranger, who held her tightly and picked her up.  _

_ She squirmed in his tight grasp, legs still spinning, but she soon realised that any attempt at escape was futile, so she fell still. Shaking in fright, she slowly lifted her eyes to look at the  face of her captor. _

_ He had smiling eyes. That was the first thing she noticed. Smiling eyes and a funny nose. Through her child’s eyes, she let out a little giggle at his slightly crooked nose. The man smiled at her. _

_ “The soldiers have passed, child. The bread is yours,” he said comfortingly. “Tell me, little one, do you have a name?” His voice was deep and low, and he spoke with the full richness of the Persian tongue.  _

_ “I...I...I have no name, good Sir.” _

_ The man frowned in puzzlement. “No name? But...you must have parents somewhere child?” _

_ “I have no parents either, Master. At least, that is what they tell me.” _

_ The man sat, and perched the girl on his knee. “And who are ‘they’, little maid?” _

_ “Them. The people. The orphans and the beggars. My people.” _

_ “What do ‘they’ call you then, small one?” _

_ She shrugged her thin shoulders and smiled sadly. “Girl. They call me Girl.” _

_ The man frowned. The girl tilted her head and stared at him. They looked at each other in silence for several minutes, processing.  _

_ The kind man lifted her on to her feet and stood. He took her small hand in his large one. “My name is Xenophilius. But I think, for the foreseeable future, you may call me Papa.” He smiled as her eyes lifted and a sweet expression of pure joy filled her face. “But what shall we call you, little maiden? I cannot keep calling you ‘Girl’.” He thought for a minute, then laughed softly. _

_ “You have crept into my life just as the moon creeps into the sky at night. The beautiful moon whose rising is unnoticed by many, yet once raised, every being acknowledges its appearing. I shall call you Maha, and you shall be my moon-child.” _

_ But I pray that all do not notice you, my little one, he thought to himself. For attention can bring danger with it.  _

OoO

As she entered the Palace that morning, things seemed...different. Yet still, she went about her duties with a bright smile. The splendour of the Winter Palace never failed to leave her breathless. The blue, scarlet, silver and gold tiles, with hangings all around in royal colours, tapestries and works of art surrounding the galleried building, and courtyards with statues and spectacular stone water features left an impression of grandeur. But behind the impressive facade was a cascade of money that was drained from Susa’s poorest people; and that left her heart heavy.

Still. A cheery disposition would please the King.  _ Keep your smile, Maha. One of these days, you may need it. _

Maha dutifully meandered through the Palace lighting every fireplace to keep the noble-folk warm. It was tiring and dirty work, but Maha enjoyed it. She loved to watch the flames dance, free and untamed, unharnessed by man. She wished she had that freedom. Imagine it! To go wherever one wanted to be! She sighed and stood up. One day she would have that; but for now, this was enough.

Just then, a shout went up from the King’s guard. “ _ All servants to the kitchens immediately!”  _ There was the urgent running of feet and clanging of armour through the vast corridors, and a flurry of nervous activity as every servant ran with haste towards the kitchens. Maha herself slipped in silently in the back as the gathering was brought to attention by the guards.

“The King is sick. He has lapsed into a state of madness. We do not have time to fetch a healer. Is there anyone here who can provide him with a remedy?  _ Anyone?  _ Your efforts shall not go unrewarded.”

Maha stood shaking. She could volunteer; but there was a risk that the King would not keep his word, in which case she could be executed for witchcraft. She needn’t have worried about her moral dilemma. She did not volunteer herself.

A young servant boy raised his hand excitedly, unaware of the danger he could cause. “Maha can do it! She used to sell remedies in the streets! She made my mama feel better!” 

Every pair of eyes in the room was focused on Maha, who was wishing for the earth to open and swallow her up. This was not how she pictured this situation going. “I...I...I...” she stuttered, terrified to speak. “I can try.” She forced the whisper out of her throat.

She was led to the door of the King’s bedchamber. This was unchartered territory for her. Fearful, but curious, she entered behind the guards. Her eyes had to adjust to the darkness of the room. The first thing that hit her was an awful, overpowering, musty smell. This would not do. No one could live in conditions like this. Tentatively, she approached the King.

He lay prostrate on his bed, wet with sweat and writhing in pain and mental anguish. His skin was ghostly pale and his features gaunt and hollow. His eyes were red and weeping; he was mumbling and groaning unintelligible words. Despite his condition, it was easy to see that the King was a handsome man, still relatively young, though much older than her. 

It was also easy to see that this was not madness, which brought her some relief. “He has succumbed to a fever,” Maha whispered to herself. She put her soft hand to his forehead; his skin radiated heat, but the cool touch of her hand appeared to provide him with momentary relief.

“Well? Can you help him?”

Maha looked at the man in pain before her, sighed and nodded. “I will try. But you need to understand; his condition is grave. He may not recover.” The guard sneered menacingly. “He  _ will _ recover. If he does not, you will suffer.” He turned and stormed out of the room leaving Maha to mull over the terrible consequences if she should fail.

She exited the room to speak to the guard. She was going to need a long list of ingredients from the Palace gardens and kitchens; and some help. Entering the room again, she walked to the tall arched windows and flung back the ornate hangings. Sunlight streamed in, filling the room with light and air, allowing her to appreciate the full magnificence of where she stood.

A hacking cough from the bed brought her back to reality and she rushed to the side of the King, in time to catch blood and spittle from his mouth in a towel. His eyes rolled back in his head and his breathing became weak and shallow. She laid her head against his chest to listen for the rhythmic beat. It was too fast, and it didn’t take Maha long to realise the severity of the situation. She needed help quickly.

It was just at this point that two young handmaidens rushed through the great doors laden with towels, herbs and medicines. Breathlessly, they introduced themselves as Daria and Hana. They were both younger than she, and they looked utterly terrified. But there was no time for sympathy. Maha soon had them working busily crushing herbs. She herself took the responsibility of cooling the King’s forehead with wet towels.  _ We have to break this fever. We have to. _

Maha held his head on her lap, soothing him with her touch and soft words. She closed her eyes.  _ If only it were cooler in here.  _ She concentrated hard. She had done it before. Maybe she could do it again.  _ And then it happened.  _ A cool breeze blew through the open windows, ruffling the hangings she had pulled away moments earlier and bringing down the temperature of the entire room.

Maha opened her eyes to Hana and Daria staring at her in shock and awe. “Maha...how did you...was that…?”

Maha turned her attention back to the King. “Girls. Keep crushing those herbs. I need to make this remedy as soon as possible.  _ Please.  _ Forget what you saw, just  _ focus.  _ I need this to work.  _ We  _ need this to work…” her voice trailed off into a choked whisper and she went back to gently calming the King, softly stroking his thick, curly hair.

She remembered how that exact motion had made her feel better when she was ill as a child. She had loved her father stroking her hair. It had been comforting to her when she was scared. She hoped that in some small way this handsome, war-worn King could feel some comfort here too. Her fingers moved over the rugged features of his face, her thumbs tracing the scars that stretched over his right eye. She wondered how he gained that wound, and couldn’t help thinking that if she had been there she could have healed it properly.

He writhed in her lap, the agony on his pale, sweaty face plain to see; but she held his shoulders firmly and continued to soothe him.  _ Where are those herbs? _

“Daria,” she whispered urgently, “ _ where is the remedy? Please  _ tell me it’s finished!” Daria and Hana looked up, panicked. “Maha, I don’t know what’s happening to it, the colour isn’t right. Did we do something wrong?  You said it should be green, but it’s still black, how...what are we…” Hana’s voice trailed off into a sob as she realised that they may not make it in time. Both of the young girls dropped to their knees and began praying desperately.

Maha felt her temper rise, a rare occurrence for her. “ _ Girls!  _ All you have to do is add the lotus petals and then it’s done,  _ snap out of it!”  _ Hana and Daria stood up in shocked silence and stood still. Maha felt herself yell, “Well don’t just  _ stand there!” _

Within seconds, the dark green potion was in her hands. She poured the liquid down his throat; the reaction was instantaneous. Immediately, he lay still. His clothes were sweat-soaked and his face pale, but his breathing became less forced and ragged, and the writhing ceased. Maha relinquished her hold on him and moved away, shaking and pale herself.

She had done it.  _ They  _ had done it. She turned to Daria and Hana and offered them a small, relief-filled smile.Their work here was done. As she turned to walk out the door, Daria called out with a question on her lips that went unanswered.

“Maha? Where did you learn to make remedies like that?”

OoO

 

_ Maha sat inside her small, cosy home. She was sitting on the warm earthen floor by the fire, a papyrus in her small hands, reading to her heart’s content. Xenophilius watched her from his seat by the window, smiling to himself. This was his moon-child and he was so proud of her.  _

_ A commotion in the marketplace brought a young Maha running to the doorway of their home, followed quickly by her father. A young boy was being beaten by soldiers for stealing. Maha shuddered. Not so long ago, that could have been her. The soldiers moved on, leaving the boy broken and bleeding on the ground. Maha’s temper flared. Didn’t they care? Didn’t anyone care? She looked up at her father with pleading eyes; so, feeling her pain and confusion, he went out and gently lifted the child and carried him inside. _

_ He was going to fix this broken child. Even if it meant introducing his moon-child to a way of life that would give her great strength but also bring her into great peril should it ever be discovered. _

_ “Maha, I need you to get me these ingredients. I need…” and so her instruction began. She ran and fetched at the beginning. As she grew older she crushed and stirred. When she became a young woman, she began taking over from her father; creating and administering the remedies. He taught her botany, philosophy, medicine, alchemy and the art of potion making. He began teaching her how to use her mind to concentrate her efforts and cause atmospheric and characteristic changes. He never called it magic or witchcraft. It was never for personal gain, only ever to help others. But it was magic. And it was dangerous. _

_ And healing that young boy? That was only the beginning. _


	2. James

James sat on a hard, uncomfortable stool outside a basic military tent. The rain fell, steady and unrelenting, turning the fine ochre beneath their feet into thick mud. He ate his minimal rations and stared glumly into the bleak grey sky. War was not as enjoyable as he had initially thought it was going to be.

He had only joined up in the first place because Sirius had begged him to. “It’ll be a great way to see the world,” his friend had said. Well so far they hadn’t seen much of the world. They had conquered much of it, but they hadn’t actually seen any of it. All James had seen was mud and blood and tears. He had seen fields and deserts covered in the bloody bodies of the slain and wounded, he had seen children caught in crossfire, he had seen his friends and brothers in arms fall around him, and he had seen more than enough destruction for one lifetime.

But the one thing he hadn’t seen was the world.

Because these days, one couldn’t just enjoy the scenery or take in the view. One couldn’t just leave life to its pure simplicity and be content with what one had. Oh no. One must conquer everything in sight until one controls the entire world. At least, that was the philosophy of Alexander the Great. He had just been Alexander, until this marauding Greek army had conquered Egypt, Libya, Armenia, Syria, and almost the entire Middle East. Then he became Alexander the Great. Now he would be greater still, because the next stop for this army was Persia. 

The Greeks were coming. And the Persians were not prepared.  _ Better still,  _ James thought,  _ their King is sick. This is going to be easy.  _

“James!” A voice filled with laughter called out to him. Sirius held a bucket over his head and ran comically towards James, who couldn’t help but laugh and shake his head. Sirius was incorrigible. 

“Why the long face?” Sirius grinned mischievously at his friend. James sighed. “What have you done now?”

Sirius let out a guffaw. “You’ll see.”

Ten minutes later, men streamed out of their tents, itching themselves frantically and yelling. “Sirius? What did you do?” Sirius grinned triumphantly and held up an unassuming and small plant. 

“Stinging nettles.”

They stared at each other in five seconds of silence and then simultaneously burst into uncontrollable laughter. “Well,” said Sirius, “you’ve got to make your own fun in this awful place.” It was funny now, but James couldn’t imagine that this would go unpunished. Alexander was not a forgiving man. 

“Oh also, I want to introduce you to some people. This,” he said, yanking a young man towards him, “is Remus. He’s a looker, but shy.” At this introduction, the poor young soldier’s face turned a violent shade of red, but he smiled and looked please. “And this,” he said, slapping an arm around a scrawny set of shoulders, “is Peter.” He added in a loud whisper, “He’s very amenable to...pretty much everything. Think of the pranks!” Peter smiled easily. 

James immediately like Remus. He seemed quiet and even-tempered. But Peter he was less sure of. When Peter smiled, only his face moved. His eyes remained cold and unfeeling. James didn’t trust anyone with unsmiling eyes. 

The four of them heard the bell that signaled the end of the day and headed off together to the washing facilities in the makeshift barracks. 

_ Well,  _ thought James.  _ This is going to be interesting.  _

OoO

 

Battle lines were drawn. Alexander, the greatest general in history, had mapped out the route of the Greek conquests. Persia was next, and, more specifically...Susa. 

James, with Sirius and their newfound friends, flopped lazily over the branch of a rather large oak tree, listening sleepily with one ear to the conversation. Sirius, with all his worldly knowledge, was trying to explain the difference between women in Greece and Persia. James was half interested in this. He, unlike Sirius, had never ventured outside Thessalonica, so he had no idea. Sirius at least  _ sounded _ as if he knew what he was talking about.  _ Although,  _ thought James,  _ it is Sirius. So that is debatable. _

“...I’m telling you, Remus, Greek women are so much finer than those Persians! They have to wear scarves on their heads...what a waste of all that hair! Not to mention all those clothes. I thought they were supposed to be exotic.” James rolled his eyes under his eyelids at this. “It’s called culture, you numbskull,” he murmured. Still. It sounded as if no one was going to be chasing any women when they finally reached Persia.

A sudden blast of the war horn sounded, calling the men to attention. James immediately sprang up. Pushing Remus and Peter in front of him, and grabbing Sirius by his thick woollen over-layer, me marched them all to the neatly formed lines of soldiers. 

One sentence played over and over in his head. “Tomorrow we march on Susa.” 

He shivered. He was a soldier, but with one huge flaw; he hated war. He had killed, certainly. There wasn’t really an option not to when you were under the command of Alexander the Great. But he hated it. He was just a man following orders. But so were the men he was fighting. They were all just puppets in a massive military machine. Kill or be killed. So he had to kill. But the inner conflict was tearing him apart. “By Ares, let it be over quick,” he whispered.


	3. Lovers

It was a normal day just like any other when Maha kissed her father and left her home that morning. The sky was still dark, the streets were quiet, the air was still. With her hair covered and her cloak wrapped around her for extra warmth, she entered the doors of the palace. She ran to the kitchens to begin the lighting of the fires. The final fireplace lay within the King’s bedchamber.

She paused before she entered, took a deep breath, and pushed the doors open. 

The King was standing at a large oak table, pouring over maps and military strategies, his brow furrowed. He turned when Maha came in and smiled gently at her. She caught her breath. He looked...well again. It had worked. He beckoned her to come towards him, and she couldn’t help noticing as she came closer that he was extraordinarily handsome. 

He looked at her with a twinkle in his eye and a smile. “I hear that I have you to thank for my continued existence,” he said gently. He paused and put his hand softly against her cheek. “Thank you.” Maha nodded, then turned her attention to the large marble fireplace. 

She stood up to leave, but couldn’t walk past the slumped shoulders of a dejected man. He had smiled at her before, but even then she had seen the uncertainty and fear in his eyes.

“Your Majesty?” He jumped slightly, as if startled out of a nightmare. “Yes, little maid?”

She resented being called “little” now that she was nineteen, but pushed that to one side. “Is everything...is everything alright?”

The King sighed and dropped his guard. He went over to his bed and sat at the foot of it with his head hung low. “I suppose there wouldn’t be any harm in telling you. Come, sit.” He motioned to the place beside him on the bed. Once she was perched next to him, he spoke. “I’ve just had word from my generals. The Macedonians are upon us. Alexander is determined to conquer Persia and extend the Greek Empire. We are vulnerable and there is nothing we can do about it. There is nothing  _ I  _ can do.” His strong voice broke at the end of his sentence. 

Maha’s heart wrenched in her chest. He was a King, but he was also a man, and he was weak. She put her small hand on his cheek, mirroring the motion he had performed just moments earlier. “You need to be strong for your people, Your Majesty. They love you and they will follow you to the ends of the earth. We must fight. If we win, we win. But if we lose, we lose fighting for the city and the people that we love.” 

Her soft, musical voice calmed him. He pressed his forehead against hers. “You’re right of course,” he whispered. “When did you get to be so wise, Maha? So wise for one so young…” Maha closed her eyes. “I’m not  _ so _ young. Nineteen.” Her voice betrayed her fear and hesitation. The mutual attraction was clear, but this was forbidden. He cupped her face in his hands and softly traced it with his thumbs. She covered his hands with her own in a half-hearted attempt to discourage him.  “We shouldn’t,” she whispered.

But he was stronger than her and this, coupled with the fact that she wasn’t really trying to push him away, meant that they remained locked together. “If the Greeks come tomorrow, if everything ends tomorrow, then I don’t want to regret anything,” he whispered back. And she felt herself give in. His hands gently pulled the scarf from her head, causing her thick long hair to cascade down her back and over her shoulders. 

The first kiss was a deep and passionate one. With that kiss, they went past the point of no return. Their hands and mouths explored each other, at times gentle and loving, at times rough and hard. That day, he taught her how to love. When they finally stopped, she lay tired and contented in his arms with her head on his muscular bare chest. And he held her like he never wanted to let her go. “Maha.”  he whispered. “My bright little moon.” She smiled. “And you are my stars,” she whispered in return.

_ It should never have gone this far,  _ she thought.

_ But it did. _

“I need to go, my lord. I have work to be doing.” Maha reluctantly disentangled herself from her lover’s arms and stood on the cold marble tiles. She could feel his eyes watching her as she dressed, and smiled softly. This was never meant to happen; but she couldn’t say she was sorry that it had. 

As she began to coil her hair back up, she felt strong hands massage her shoulders and warm lips press against her neck. She let out a soft little moan as he feathered kisses down her neck and arms and shoulders. She reached back and knotted her hands in his hair, pulling his head down to meet her mouth. “No,” she said against his mouth. “Not right now. I have to go.” She pushed him away gently with a smile. “Later, perhaps.”

She stood, finally fully dressed. He put his hand under her chin and smiled ruefully. “You tease me, moon-child.”

She laughed musically. “I am a servant girl, your Majesty. This? This could never work. This only happened because tomorrow we could all be dead. I am under no illusion that you love me,” she added in a whisper.

“Now that, my lovely girl, is exactly where you are wrong.”

She stared at him. And then she lost her temper. “I am  _ not  _ an object of  _ lust _ ! I am not  _ property   _ to be owned and traded about! I am a girl, with  _ real  _ feelings. Why do you play with them so?!”

He grasped her wrists firmly and pulled her to his chest so she couldn’t struggle. “I was not playing with your feelings, Maha. I am being serious. You saved my life. And now I am falling in love with you.”

She stopped struggling. “I am not joining a harem. That is not happening.”

He laughed loudly. “I don’t have a harem. One only falls truly in love once. And...I think you might be it for me. The sun needs a moon to reflect it’s light, Maha,” he whispered softly. He saw tears pooling in her beautiful eyes. Taking her face in both of his hands, he kissed her softly on the mouth. 

In a dizzy whirl, she turned and ran to the kitchens, unable to stop her heart racing. This had to be a dream. But for now, duty called.


	4. War

The army marched. Late in the afternoon, Alexander’s men stood on a high peak in the Zagros Mountains. Just beyond them in the lower valley stood their target; the city of Susa. James stared down at the proud city with a vacant expression. He knew what was about to happen; and he also knew that they didn’t deserve this. All those innocent people...an enthusiastic arm flung around his shoulders and clapped him on the back. “You alright, brother?” 

James shook his head wordlessly. Sirius grasped his best friend’s shoulder and held him firmly and comfortingly. “Don’t get attached, James. It’ll hurt you more,” he said softly. James lifted his head, surprised at this manifestation of a softer side of his usually enthusiastic and sarcastic friend. He threw one arm around Sirius’ shoulders and they walked back to their ranks. 

Next stop,  _ Susa. _

OoO

 

It was too silent. And then, suddenly, it wasn’t. It was very, very loud. The Palace was being overrun. They were here; the Macedonians were here. The Brazen Greeks, as they were known to the unconquered world. It appeared that Susa would be joining that ever-spreading Greek Empire. Maha hid under a small table in the storage cupboard, shaking in terror, listening to the chaos happening around her. This couldn’t be happening. Her beautiful dream was fast turning into a nightmare of epic proportions. She gave in to her fear and sat there in the cold and dark silently crying. 

It lasted for hours. She couldn’t say just how many. She lay curled up on the cold stone floor, numb and cold, but too scared to move. And then there was silence again. Wiping tear streaks from her face and stretching out her weary and cramped limbs, Maha stood and cautiously exited the storeroom. The scene that awaited her was nothing short of horrific.

The lifeless corpses of the King’s guards were strewn precariously through the enormous corridors. But it wasn’t just the guards who had died. She saw the bodies of servants, of women and children. 

_ So much blood. So much pain. _

Maha walked tentatively through the carnage before her, bending down to see if there were any poor souls among the slaughtered who might still have a chance at life. Every now and then she thought she saw a hand move, or an eye twitch, but she knew that these were just reflexes. Tears slid uncontrollably down her face. There was no one left. No one. And then she gasped in fear and dread as a thought came to her.

_ What about the King? _

She turned towards his bedchamber, and, not caring who saw or heard her, she ran.

OoO

 

James stood in one of the courtyards of the formerly beautiful winter palace, bloody sword in hand, dripping with sweat and in a state of shock. This one had been the worst so far. The screaming, the fighting, the begging; it echoed around his head like a nightmare that wouldn’t go away. He looked behind him only to see Sirius slumped against an ornate water fountain, his head in his hands. James walked slowly over to his friend and collapsed next to him from pure exhaustion. 

But the reprieve didn’t last long. In a matter of minutes, Generals were marching through the Palace, barking orders and gesturing for soldiers to get up and look for survivors. The place was a ghost town. James breathed heavily and struggled to his feet, dragging Sirius up with him. He wrapped a comforting arm around his best friend’s shoulder before they were split up. Sirius began to carry the slain Macedons out of the bloody hallways of the Palace. James began the long walk through the empty, echoing rooms to search for signs of life. 

He hoped for their sakes there were no survivors. 

_ Life as a prisoner of the Greek Army was no life at all. _

It was all clear. But then he heard the sound of sobbing. A girl. Following the pathetic, heart-rending sound, he came across a scene that he would not soon forget.

He had never seen King Darius, but this regal looking man lying in an awkward and limp position appeared to be him. He was sprawled in a pool of blood, a spear protruding from his heart, a shocked expression still spread across his ruggedly handsome features. No doubt he had cut a magnificent figure before the luckless King had met a grizzly end at the hand of a Greek mercenary. But there was something else. 

_ The girl. _

She was not of royal blood. That was obvious. And yet she appeared to be very close to the King. She was holding his head in her lap, rocking in anguish and crying as if she had just lost a loved one. James couldn’t see her face, or even her hair, which was still covered by a linen scarf indicating...servitude. She was a  _ servant.  _

The bewilderment must have been obvious in his face when she turned her head hesitantly and saw him standing there. And he caught his breath. 

She was  _ beautiful.  _ He didn’t know what Sirius had been talking about when he said that Persian women weren’t exotic. Because this girl...this  _ woman... _ was taking his breath away. Her olive skin was smooth and free of blemishes and her scarf had slipped from her head slightly to reveal beautiful long thick tresses of dark hair. But those  _ eyes _ . They saw right into him, right  _ through  _ him. They shone like the moon. And they were full of tears.


	5. Luna

Maha draped herself over the body of her King, her lover. She felt as if a dagger had pierced her heart and taken her soul. He had fallen in love with her in only a few short days, and she knew that she had begun to fall in love with him too. At least, she thought this was what love might feel like; she hadn’t been in love before. But know she surrendered to her feelings of shock, fear, misery and anger, and the tears began to flow. Her body was shaking with sobs and every now and then, a guttural cry would escape her lips. She didn’t care what she looked like, or who saw her; she wrapped herself in her grief and sheltered on the muscular but now lifeless chest of the man she had saved once before. 

Behind her, Maha heard the footsteps of a lone figure echoing through the corridor. She was completely devoid of any energy or will to move, otherwise she might have run. But, tired, drained, and in emotional pain, she lay still, as if still protecting her King. 

The footsteps stopped behind her. Hesitantly, she turned her head. There stood one solitary Greek soldier. He was staring at her in a manner she couldn’t describe. Curiosity mingled with confusion and pity and several other emotions she couldn’t pin down. Her eyes moved up and down his figure, appraising him.

She liked what she saw. His tanned skinned highlighted his deep brown eyes. He tucked his helmet under one arm, allowing his unkempt mop of thick black hair fall messily over one side of his face. He had removed his heavy brass breastplate revealing a simple linen shirt. He cut a tall and handsome figure. And if his eyes hadn’t been so kind, Maha would have feared him. 

Leaving the King’s side, she stood unsteadily, suddenly weakened by the attempt to rise. She would have fallen, had it not been for the strong, steady arms of this stranger who caught her. Then, the inevitable happened.

She fainted.

OoO

 

She had tried to stand too quickly. The poor girl. Luckily, James was standing near enough to her and had managed to catch the frail and unconscious creature before she fell. He pulled her close to his chest and lifted her. This was a strange sensation. She was small and didn’t weigh much at all; her petite frame fit perfectly in his arms. Almost as if she was made to fit there. She was warm and soft, and after a long path of bloodshed and violence, he found it welcoming and oddly comforting. And she smelled of lavender and figs, two of his favourite things.

He carried her outside and sat on the ground, laying her head on his lap and softly stroking her hair. He remembered when he was a child, his mother stroked his hair to make him feel better, and the simple touch was often effective. Maybe it would help this girl. Her hair was so soft and beautiful. It was easy to imagine what it would be like to knot his fingers in that hair and kiss those soft lips; he wondered if her mouth was as soft as the rest of her. 

She started to stir. Her eyes opened and once again he was shocked by the sparkling brilliance of those deep grey eyes. It was like they were the doors to her spirit, and looking into them he could see her inner beauty. He caught his breath and they locked eyes for what seemed like an eternity.

Then he spoke.

“My name is James.”

He faltered over the short sentence, attempting to speak in Persian, and accompanied the words with gestures. But to his surprise, the young woman smiled, released a musical laugh, a totally unexpected sound in this environment, and spoke in near perfect Greek:

“It is a pleasure to meet you, James. My name is Maha.”

OoO

 

When Sirius came to find James ten minutes later, he happened upon a rather unexpected scene. A pretty young Persian girl sat on the marble floor leaning against the wall, and next to her... _ James.  _ They were talking quietly. Sirius stood behind a pillar and leaned his head against it so he could hear better.

“Ma-ja?” James was struggling with her name.

“Mah-ya.” The girl changed the emphasis. 

“Mar-ya.” James couldn’t get his tongue around that word.

Resigned, he shook his head. “What does it mean?” Maha smiled at him. “It means ‘moon’,” she said softly, tears welling in her striking eyes, “my...my father gave me that name. He calls me his moon-child.” A little sob escaped her throat when she considered the fact that she may never see her father again. James placed a tentative hand on her arm. 

“Well,” he said, “the Romans have a word for ‘moon’ too, which is a lot easier for me to say.” He smiled at her hesitantly. “May I...may I just call you Luna?” She practiced saying the word a few times, liking the way it felt as it rolled off her tongue. “Luna,” she whispered under her breath. “Yes. I like Luna.”

Sirius chose this moment to burst out from behind his pillar, startling both James and the pretty girl, who instinctively grabbed on to him in automatic fear. James supported her weight and exhaled in relief at the sight of his friend.

“ _ James!”   _ SIrius blurted out, his handsome face creased with rare anxiety. “You can’t, you can’t do this.  _ She _ ,” he pointed at the newly named Luna, “will cause us nothing but trouble.”

James began to speak. “Sirius, this is L-”

“Luna, I know,” said Sirius. James looked at him in puzzlement. “How long were you standing behind that pillar?”

Sirius sighed. “Long enough.”

James stared at Sirius, the disappointment in his friend obvious in his eyes. Sirius looked away, unable to meet his gaze. James sighed. “She is innocent, Sirius. She has done nothing. Are we to chain her up and hand her over like some criminal? By Ares, Sirius, I’ll not do it. Not  _ willingly,  _ anyway.” Defiance and vengeance were written into his face, as if in stone. Sirius saw it and knew this was final. 

“Alright,  _ fine _ ,” he said, deflated and resigned. “What do we do then, James?” James placed a protective arm around Luna’s shoulders and looked furtively over his shoulder. He spied the telltale bronze breastplate of a Greek soldier approaching. He pushed Luna roughly behind a smashed water feature and threw himself down over her, grabbing Sirius by the wrist as he did so. 

“ _ Hide!” _


	6. Captive

Luna lay prostrate on the ground, her eyes closed and face pale as she froze in fear.  _ Luna _ , she thought to herself.  _ I’ll have to get used to that.  _ She was very aware of the very handsome, very muscular Greek man looming over her protectively. Her breathing was shallow and fast and her heartbeat pounded an with an unfamiliar irregularity.  _ It’s the fear _ , she told herself. But she knew it wasn’t. She looked up at the intense brown eyes staring into her own cool grey eyes. It felt like he was staring into her soul. And in that moment, she knew he understood her. 

The voices came nearer, along with the clanging of armour and the unwelcome aroma of sweat mingled blood. Luna stiffened in fear. James lowered himself closer, removing any space that had existed between them. He gently pressed his cheek against hers, offering her comfort. Now, with him pressed against her, she immediately felt safe. Her eyes closed and her breathing became quiet and even. 

But her brief contentment was misplaced.

“ _ What is going on here? _ ” 

 

OoO

 

James felt himself being hauled up by his shoulders and hair and let out a yell of anger. His comrades force him onto his knees and held him to the ground. Sirius was in a similar situation beside him. In front of him, his General, Brutus, had control of Luna, grabbing her by her shoulders and holding her far too tightly. He could see that it was causing her pain, however hard she was trying not to show weakness in front of this powerful display of masculinity in all its strength. He saw the tears glistening in her eyes and tried to get free to help her, to no avail. She shook her head at him, a single tear escaping and rolling gracefully down her pale face. 

James’ heart wrenched at the sight of her imprisoned and vulnerable. He turned his attention to her captor. “General, please, let her go. She is innocent. We don’t need her.  _ Please _ , let her leave. Punish me, but let her go.” His voice was filled with a desperation he hadn’t known he felt until that very moment. He shocked himself with his passionate plea for her life; he shocked Sirius as well. He felt his friend’s eyes boring into him. 

The seriousness of their situation hit him. “Sirius,” he whispered, “I’m sorry, my friend.” He felt his own eyes pool with tears as he turned his head to face his friend.

Brutus sneered at the pair of them as he grabbed Luna by her hair and threw her to the ground. James had never liked the tyrannical General. He ruled by fear and handed out severe penalties for small errors. He hated to think what he and Sirius would be facing this time. 

“It seems, gentleman,” Brutus leered at his fellow captors, “that young James here has taking a liking to this…” his voice trailed off as he kicked Luna as if she were a dog, “...this  _ creature _ .” 

“Don’t you  _ dare  _ hurt her,” choked James through gritted teeth as he writhed in the hold of his aggressor, wanting more than anything to come to her defense. Luna lifted her head from where she lay in a crumpled heap on the cold ground and met his eyes. Hers were filled with a white-hot calm, his with a flaming red fire. Sooner or later, one of them would explode. 

Brutus laughed maniacally. “Defensive are we?” He brought his mouth close to James’ face; close enough that when he spoke, James felt flecks of spittle land on his skin. The sensation was enough to make anybody nauseous. “Well, soldier, I think the lesson we all need to learn here is a little  _ respect _ , don’t you think?” He stood back up again. James listened in dread for the punishment.

Brutus spoke to the soldiers around them. “Fifty lashes each for  _ these two _ ,” he spat in the direction of James and Sirius, “and as for  _ this one _ ,” he pulled Luna roughly to her feet, “I think I’ll keep her. I might need someone to keep my bed warm at night.” James watched in an intense fury as Brutus let his hands wander all over Luna, touching her in places that only a lover should be touching. “Alright men. Take them away.” 

James and Sirius were dragged away and thrown into a prison pit in the ground; a hole so deep, there was no possible chance of escape. They sat there, dejected and weary, covered in blood and dripping with sweat. “You know,” said Sirius matter-of-factly, “as far as Persian women go, she’s not bad.”

James stared at his friend for a few seconds and then burst into laughter. “You’re an idiot. You know that, right?” Sirius grinned. “There it is. I thought for a moment you’d forgotten how to.”

“How to what?”

“Laugh.”

But then it hit him. “Sirius. We’re going to get lashes. It’s going to  _ hurt _ .” James cringed at the thought of the unbearable pain. Sirius put his arm around his friend. “We’re going to figure a way out of this, brother. I’m not getting whipped by that bastard.” James nodded. “And what’s more,” Sirius continued, “We’re getting your girl back.”

“She’s not  _ my girl _ ,” James insisted. 

“Of course she’s not,” Sirius said grinning.

“She’s  _ not _ ,” James insisted, although his mind went back to just hours before, when he had laid on top of her to protect her. That had been intense. They had both radiated heat and tension. 

“You may not like to admit it, my friend, but you’ve got it bad.”

James sighed. His friend was right. He did have it bad. He wasn’t sure he believed in love at first sight before, but now there could be no doubting it. As soon as he had looked into those deep grey eyes he had been lost to the treacherous waters that were love. He had no idea if she felt the same;  _ probably not _ , he thought. Regardless, he felt a strong sense of protectiveness whenever he thought about her. He would not leave her to fate in the cruel clutches of that pompous, arrogant dictator. 

He and Sirius would think of something.

_ "Soteria protect you, Luna my love,"  _ he whispered up at the sky.


	7. Plans

Luna sat in a luxurious tent on a soft mattress. She shivered, partly from cold, partly from fear. She was a prisoner in a strange place among strange people and the only friendly faces she had known were sitting in a dungeon somewhere about to be horribly punished because they had tried to save her.

_ James _ . She couldn’t get the image of him out of her head. His muscular arms and chest, the fine cut of his chiseled jaw, his fiery brown eyes and the unkempt mop of dark hair wouldn’t leave her mind. In fact, she felt a little breathless every time she pictured him. But surely there was no such thing as love at first sight. And yet; this dizzy, light-headed feeling was telling her otherwise. It didn’t matter now, anyway. Any hope she had held of seeing him again was completely gone. 

And now she was trapped.

Brutus entered the tent. He ignored her and started stripping of layers of armour. He was a very large, brutish man; he might once have been attractive, but his sour personality and his clear love of wine and food had banished any trace of a defined figure or an attractive face. 

He was a hulking and imposing silhouette as he leaned over her. His mouth turned up in a  cruel and malicious smile. “Well, my girl,” he snarled as he grabbed her by the wrist, “I’m going to have some fun with you tonight. And you will not struggle, either, or…” he mimed an execution gesture. She felt her breath leave her, but she would not allow him the satisfaction of showing him fear. He threw her back on the bed. “I’m going to ruin you,” he sneered.

The moment this comment left his lips, Luna began to laugh. Brutus stared at her half in anger, half in shock. He grabbed her hair. “Why, you Persian bitch, are you laughing?” His voice was soft and threatening. 

Luna faced him, suddenly fearless. “Is that your goal? To ruin me? I hate to disappoint you,  _ Sir _ , but if that’s the case, then you will fail.” He looked at her questioningly.

She smiled triumphantly. “I am already ruined. I was the King’s lover.”

And with that statement, she closed her eyes and concentrated. She pushed her hands forward violently, and with an unseen force that surprised even herself, the General was flung backwards across the room. His head hit the corner of the long table, and he fell still and limp. Luna approached him cautiously and checked for signs of life; he was still breathing, just unconscious. She felt a slight tinge of relief. She hadn’t  _ really   _ wanted to kill him. 

Luna began to formulate a plan. She hitched up her long skirts so they reached her knees, and flung the General’s warm cape over her shoulders before she grabbed his dagger and sword.  _ Now,  _ she thought,  _ where are those boys? _

Luna lifted the tent flap and fled out into the night. She had to find where Sirius and James were. She needed to see James. 

She crept silently through the Greek encampment, trying to figure out where she was and where she needed to be going. She suddenly felt very small and insignificant...and scared. After nearly being discovered several times by soldiers leaving and entering their tents, she ducked a utility tent to catch her breath and clear her head.

“...but Remus, getting them out is going to be dangerous, not to mention we’re going to  _ die _ if they find us…”

“Peter don’t be such a child...these are our  _ friends _ ...they don’t deserve this...if you won’t help me, I’ll do it alone…”

Luna moved closer to the tent so she could hear the conversation clearer. Were they talking about James and Sirius?

“Peter, you are being so  _ weak _ .” The soldier apparently named Remus spoke with scorn and derision, clearly in disbelief that Peter was not willing to help rescue his friends. “Are you  _ seriously  _ going to let them take that punishment?  Brutus is a slave driver. He’s cruel. Whatever James and Sirius have done, it’s not worth fifty lashes.” 

Luna heard the two names she wanted to hear most just then, and burst into the tent. Remus and Peter spun around, only to find the unexpected sight of a young Persian woman wearing the uniform of a Greek soldier and bearing a sword. Knowing that this was a potentially life and death situation, Luna drew the sword and brandished it. “Excuse me,” she said politely and urgently, “did I hear you saying you were going to rescue James and Sirius? Because if you are, I’m coming. And no, you don’t get any say in that,” she added as Remus began to open his mouth to speak.

“Oh, no miss, I was just about to ask you how you are so fluent in Greek, when you are so obviously Persian.”

Luna smiled softly, a change from the fiery, determined character she had presented on arrival. “Oh. My father taught me. He thought it was important for me to have a good and thorough education. I am forever grateful. Maybe I can thank him one day. If I ever see him again…” her voice trailed off as she choked back tears. 

She shook herself out of her memories. “We don’t have time for this. We have to find James and Sirius...they saved my life,” she said in answer to questioning looks from Remus and Peter.

And with that, she turned and walked gracefully yet purposefully out into the uncertain blackness, leaving two young soldiers behind her with wide eyes and open mouths. Peter and Remus looked at each other, and without speaking a word, they followed her. They were going to save James. 


End file.
